


Like Recognizes Like

by kryptonianmenace



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Autism Acceptance Month 2019, Autistic Damian Wayne, Autistic Tim Drake, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-01-04 09:04:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kryptonianmenace/pseuds/kryptonianmenace
Summary: Jon believes Damian might be getting bullied. Tim trying to reach out to Damian leads to them realizing they have more in common than they thought.---It's Autism Acceptance Month so here's a fic about two of my faves bonding over being autistic!





	1. Chapter 1

“I think Damian’s getting bullied at school, but he won’t tell me about it,” Jon said, poking his fork into his noodles with a worried look across his face.

Tim froze, his to-go box from Noodles & Co. only half open as he considered Jon’s statement.

“What makes you think that?” Conner asked, voice muffled from the large helping of mac n’ cheese he had shoveled in his mouth.

Jon shrugged and shifted in his chair. “I have this new friend in class, who just moved here about a month ago. And sometimes she’ll apologize for getting too excited over something, so I asked her why she felt like she needed to apologize when she was so happy, you know? And she said she was bullied at her old school for getting too intense about things.”

“Damian can certainly get intense,” Tim muttered, to which Conner snorted.

“Yeah, obviously,” Jon said, rolling his eyes in amusement. “But lately there are times where he’ll suddenly, like. Catch himself? I don’t know how to phrase it, but he just suddenly clams up and insists he’s done talking when he’s clearly not. Reminds me of my friend.”

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Conner asked.

Tim shook his head before Jon could answer, passing another container of mac n’ cheese to Conner to replace the now empty one in front of him. “Even if he did, Damian’s not gonna admit he’s acting weird, let alone why.”

“That’s part of why I’m so worried,” Jon said.

Conner leaned over to squeeze his shoulder in reassurance. “He’s a tough kid. Plus, he’s got people willing to help him if he is being bullied, whether he admits it or not.”

“I’ll try to help him,” Tim said. “It’ll be awkward, but he‘s my brother, I guess.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tim drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, glancing at the moody teen next to him every so often.

Damian sat in the passenger seat, glaring out at the traffic around them, his change of clothes for the charity gala resting in the dry-cleaning bag on his knees.

“We should have enough time, but if we’re late, they can’t blame us. The last minute venue change didn’t give us a lot of time, so it’s understandable if we’re late,” Tim said, the silence bearing down on him as the cars on the highway barely moved.

The younger boy let out a scoff. “It may be understandable, but it still comes across as rude.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s not as if they’re going to be offended that you had school, Damian. And no one expected the first venue to be attacked by Ivy. The switch is affecting a lot of people, it’ll be fine if we’re a little late. There’s probably others headed to the gala in traffic with us.”

“It’s impolite to show up after the event has started, regardless of the reason,” Damian snapped.

“Damian, just try to relax,” Tim sighed. “I know it’s not what we had planned for tonight, but it can’t be helped. Alfred has done the best he could to make sure you get there as soon as possible.”

“We didn’t have a backup plan,” Damian muttered.

“What?”

“Why didn’t we have a backup plan? This all could have been avoided if we just thought ahead,” he said.

Tim furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “We can’t see the future. We didn’t know.”

“That’s not what I meant!” Damian snapped.

“Then what did you mean?” Tim asked.

Damian started to speak before hunching in on himself and scowling at the side mirror. “It doesn’t matter.”

Tim paused. Damian was turned away from him, missing the contemplative look Tim shot his way.

“Of course it matters, Damian. You’re upset about it. I want to know what you meant so I can back you up when you talk to Bruce about how we can avoid running the risk of being late to events in the future,” Tim said.

“You’re just saying what you think I want to hear,” Damian said.

“Since when have I ever tried to do what you want?” Tim asked, voice incredulous.

“You think I’m overreacting and you’re trying to calm me down by telling me what you think I want to hear,” Damian snapped.

Tim let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. He was silent for a long while, the tension growing in the car. Finally, he spoke. “I have some stuff I want to say, and I’m worried you’ll get upset and interrupt me before I’m done. So just. Please let me finish.”

Damian let out a noise of acknowledgement, crossing his arms and scowling at his lap.

“The other day, Jon hung out with Conner and I because Clark and Lois had a date night. He told me he thinks you’re being bullied.”

Damian shifted and looked as if he was about to speak, before Tim caught his eye.

“He said you remind him of an autistic classmate of his who was bullied for her autism,” Tim said.

“But I’m not autistic,” Damian interrupted, confusion obvious.

“Have you ever been tested?” Tim asked. “Because I’ve actually been wondering for a while now. If you actually are autistic, then we have a lot of similar symptoms.”

Tim smirked at the look of surprise on Damian’s face.

“You’re autistic?”

“Yeah. Didn’t get diagnosed until Bruce adopted me.”

“And you think I’m autistic too.”

There was a long pause as Tim considered his response. “It’s a bit like… For example, people joke that all gay people have a gaydar, or whatever, but it’s more along the lines of ‘like recognizes like.’ I can guess when another person isn’t straight because I recognize things about my sexuality and how it affects me in them. It’s the same with my autism.”

Damian stared studiously down at his hands, struggling to form words. “How… What… What makes you think I’m autistic?”

Tim shrugged. “Lots of things. Some of it I can’t even put into words. But, I guess, some of it is how you apply yourself? If you’re interested in something, it’s your sole focus. If you aren’t interested, it’s not important to you. You have a set of rules in your head that you need to follow. You hate unexpected change. I could go on, but it would probably get uncomfortable for both of us.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tim looked up at the knock on his bedroom door, rolling his computer chair over to open it. “Yeah?”

Damian stood in the doorway, shifting his feet slightly as he stared down at the seated Tim.

Kicking with his feet to roll back to his desk, Tim gestured that Damian could come in. “Sit wherever. What’s up?”

Feeling awkward, Damian settled at the edge of Tim’s bed, watching the older brother shift so he was sitting cross legged in the computer chair.

“I looked up symptoms of autism, but I was wondering if you could explain a little more about why you think I have it,” he said.

Tim hummed lightly and shrugged. “Anything in specific?”

Damian shook his head and Tim hummed again, moving a foot to the floor to gently spin himself.

“Well, there’s hyperfixation,” Tim said. “And I’m gonna apologize in advance because I hyperfixate on autism a bit so I might end up info-dumping on you.”

“Info-dumping isn’t a proper word,” Damian said, voice exasperated.

Tim blinked. “Oh. Right. It’s term that’s commonly used in the neurodivergent community. It’s when you just talk for an extended amount of time about your hyperfixations. Some people refer to their hyperfixations as their special interests.”

“So do you have special interests?” Damian asked.

“Obviously,” Tim said with a grin. “It’s actually how I ended up being Robin.”

Damian skeptically raised his eyebrows, motioning for Tim to elaborate.

“I hyperfixate mostly on superheroes and photography,” Tim said, energetically climbing out of his chair and going to rummage under his bed. “I also hyperfixated on Dick a bit when I was younger because I was there the night his parents died and it affected me pretty badly. Combine all that and…” He paused for effect as he presented a box of photos with a flourish. “You get six year old me stalking Batman, and eight year old me figuring out his identity because I recognized Dick’s acrobatics.”

Damian grabbed the box and slowly thumbed through the photos. Looking up at Tim in shock, he spoke. “How the hell did you get these photos when you were only six?”

Tim grinned, bouncing to sit on the bed, Damian turning to face him.

“My parents were never home so I got really good at sneaking around the streets of Gotham with a camera. Even Bruce never noticed,” Tim said. “I still go out and practice sometimes to see if I can slip out from under his radar.”

“That’s so cool,” Damian breathed out as he glanced down at the photos. “You have to teach me how to do that,” he said.

Tim laughed. “You’re the first person who hasn’t gone on a rant about how dangerous it was for me to do that.”

“It’s in the past,” Damian said, shrugging dismissively. “Now it’s a useful skill. I want to learn how to do that.”

Tim was practically vibrating with excitement. “Yeah! And there’s probably League techniques that can help improve what I do already.”

Damian’s head shot up. “You wanna learn League techniques?”

“Obviously! They may be our enemy a lot of the times but they’re  _ skilled _ , dude.”

“Can we start tonight before patrol?” Damian asked.

Tim nodded with a grin, before asking a question about Damian’s fighting style, to which the younger brother replied immediately.


	4. Chapter 4

“Red Robin?” Damian asked, confusion clear on his face as he saw the older vigilante crouched on a rooftop, covering his ears desperately.

When Tim didn’t respond, Damian moved closer and nudged him in the shoulder. Startled, Tim jolted and stared at him with wide eyes.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?” Damian asked, crouching down to be at the same eye level, but Tim just shook his head.

“Everything’s… loud. Too much,” Tim mumbled, burying his face back in his knees.

“Was it caused by something?”

Tim mumbled again, but it was too quiet. Damian nudged him again and made him repeat it louder. “Sensory overload. My autism.”

Damian shifted to sit fully only the roof next to his brother. “What can I do?”

“Tell B,” Tim said, covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut. At a closer look, Damian realized Tim had pulled the comm out of his ear.

“Batman, this is Robin. Red Robin says he’s dealing with sensory overload. I’m with him on the roof of the elementary school near fourth avenue,” Damian said into his own comm.

_ “Stay with him until he’s calm enough to head home,”  _ Batman replied.  _ “You’re both relieved from patrol from the rest of the night.” _

Damian responded with an acknowledgement, before shifting his focus back to Tim.

“Anything else you need me to do?” he asked.

Tim shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Damian hummed softly. “Can you tell me stories about your time as Robin?”

“What?”

Damian refused to meet Tim’s eyes. “I’m seeing if distracting you will help. Tell me something.”

Tim remained silent for a long time, before he began to speak, softly and slowly. “Did you know Impulse has a spaceship?”

“What?” Damian blinked in surprise, caught off guard.

“Yeah, one of our first ever missions as Young Justice, we saved a sultan and he paid us back by giving Impulse a spaceship, because he didn’t know how bad of an idea it was,” Tim said, a laugh escaping him.

“Does he ever even use it? Or did he forget he had it?”

At that, Tim chuckled again. “He did forget, yeah, but we used it once to help this guy name Doiby Dickles.”

“What the hell kind of name is Doiby Dickles? And why did he need a spaceship?” Damian asked.

Grinning, Tim moved his face out of his knees. “We took him back to his planet, but then it was invaded and we had to play baseball to save it.”

Damian stared at him for a long moment. “I can’t tell if you’re making this up or not.”

“Dead serious,” Tim said. “It was a weird day.”

“Everything I’ve ever heard about Young Justice sounds like a fever dream,” Damian said.

“You’re not wrong,” Tim said with a laugh. “Wanna head back to the cave for now? Distracting me helped and I think I should be good enough to get there.”

Damian nodded and helped Tim up. “Tell me more on the way.”


	5. Chapter 5

Damian felt ready to scream in frustration. The day had started with him in a relatively relaxed mood, content to remain mostly quiet and not pick any arguments that could disrupt that quiet. Of course, that didn’t happen, because Damian’s luck was terrible.

First his teacher had yelled at him for showing off, which didn’t even make sense because all Damian had done was answer the question on the board, and not even in the same tone he used when he  _ was  _ showing off. Maps said it was because the teacher had called on a different student, but it’s really not Damian’s fault if the teacher uses inane nicknames for the students, and it’s  _ really  _ not Damian’s fault that he had absentmindedly responded to the nickname “B-B” because he was so used to Stephanie shortening the already well-used nickname Baby Bat to the same nickname the teacher had used.

Then, a classmate had accused him of mocking him in the middle of a lunch conversation, which was odd because for once Damian was trying to be civil and  _ not _ say anything mocking. That led to the classmate attempting to punch Damian, which led to a teacher seeing Damian block the punch. Somehow, that made Damian at fault, because since when have high schools cared about logic and truth? Which ended him in the headmaster’s office.

The headmaster’s secretary thought he couldn’t hear the subtle digs about his skin tone that she made to whoever she was chatting with on the phone, but she stopped the moment Bruce showed up. The headmaster painted a fantastic story framing Damian as the attacker, and the other classmate as the innocent victim, ignoring the look Bruce gave him when Damian stated that it was all a lie.

While Bruce Wayne, detective behind the Bat persona, would’ve fought to get to the truth and see the other student punished in Damian’s stead, Brucie Wayne, absentminded billionaire philanthropist father, had a reputation to uphold. Damian was suspended for two days, and the idea of a potential donation to the school’s library hung in the air for consideration.

Damian was dropped off at home and his father headed back to a meeting at Wayne Enterprises. Alfred was out grocery shopping, so Damian was alone but for the various animals in the house.

Full of frustration and rage, he went to the training room in the cave. It hadn’t felt like he was there long, but he didn’t stop until Dick told him to get showered and changed for dinner.

The energy still thrummed under his skin, keeping him broody throughout dinner. The others kept shooting him concerned looks, until finally someone spoke.

“After dinner, do you wanna start that extra training we were talking about the other day?” Tim asked. Damian relaxed his grip on his silverware and breathed out a sigh of relief as he nodded.

“I’m not going to go easy on you, Drake,” he warned.

“If I expected you to, I’d be a moron,” Tim replied, earning himself a snort of amusement.


	6. Chapter 6

“Tim, if you’re not going to listen, at least say so.”

Startled at the tone of voice, Tim snapped his head up from his pastry plate to give his classmate, Avery, a confused look. “I am listening.”

Avery scowled. “No, you were spacing out and humming to keep me talking.”

“You were saying you have the body paragraphs depicting how the themes of the poem parallel that of the play No Exit, or Huis-Clos since this is for your French class, but you don’t know how to connect it to your thesis just yet,” Tim said.

“Jesus Christ, Drake, you’re such a robot,” Avery replied. “Like, thanks for paying attention, man, but show a little emotion.”

Tim just shrugged, used to the rude comments from the other student.

“If he’s a robot, he was built poorly. Last week, he stayed up for three days straight analyzing every single song in all of some band’s discography. He forgot to eat unless we reminded him and I had to threaten him with sleeping pills to get him to finally rest,” Damian said, walking up to stand behind the couch Tim was seated on.

“It was Green Day and I couldn’t sleep anyway so I gave myself something to do,” Tim said, tilting his head back to look at his younger brother. “You done for the day?”

“Who’s this?” Avery asked.

“Damian. He’s my little brother. He had a college visit day and we agreed to meet here when he was done,” Tim said. “Damian, this is my classmate Avery. We were working on a group project until we started talking about other classes.”

Damian made a noise of acknowledgement and begrudgingly joined Tim on the couch when he was offered a muffin Tim had set aside for him.

“The Green Day thing surprises me,” Avery said. “Tim always seems so boring and monotone, only focusing on schoolwork.”

“Then clearly you’re not interesting enough for him to show emotion around you,” Damian muttered, causing Tim to choke briefly on the cookie he was eating.

“Damian, you can’t just say that,” he said, trying to scold but sounding indifferent.

“If he doesn’t realize by now that that’s simply how you are at times, that’s his own problem,” Damian said.

Tim sighed. “He doesn’t know how my autism works, Little D.”

“Don’t call me that,” Damian snapped.

“Wait, you’re autistic?” Avery asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tim shrugged and gave a wry grin. “It’s none of your business, so I didn’t tell you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: The R slur is used in this chapter, and it is aimed at Damian.  
> This chapter will have a second part.

“Oh my god, Damian, shut up already. No one cares,” Madison drawled, interrupting Damian mid-sentence.

His body locked up in anger as he turned to look at her. “If nobody cares about my heritage, then why are we having a class discussion about the racism aimed at me and our fellow classmates of color?”

“You’re getting worked up over comments that were meant as a joke. It’s not like anyone’s throwing slurs around,” Madison said.

Damian could see other classmates reacting, a mix of rolled eyes, glares, nods, and other expressions. “It’s called microaggressions, which you would know if you let me finish talking.”

Madison let out a short laugh. “What, are you, like, retarded or something? Microaggressions aren’t a thing.”

Maps sucked in a breath and whispered Damian’s name, watching as the boy somehow tensed up even more.

“As of three weeks ago, I do qualify as retarded, actually,” Damian snarled, pushing out of his seat to stand and slam his hands on his desk. “I just found out I have autism, and I don’t appreciate you calling me a slur that’s used for my mental disorder.”

The entire class froze, staring in shock at the outburst.

“You’re not autistic, Wayne,” Madison said. “You’re nothing like the autistic people that I know.”

“You don’t know anything, you moronic bitch!”

“Language, Mr. Wayne,” their teacher called out.

“She called me retarded, I think I have the right to call her a bitch, you hypocritical piece of shit,” Damian said. Grabbing his books and backpack, he headed to the door. “Don’t bother telling me to go to the headmaster’s office, I’m headed there already.”

Once he was out in the hall he stopped to send a text to the family group chat:  _ The school is going to call saying I’m in trouble. Send Drake, he’ll want to shut down their stupidity personally. _

With that, he continued on his way.


	8. Chapter 8

“I don’t know why this concept is so hard for you,” Tim said. “I believe my brother, and you haven’t said anything to change that.”

“This is absurd, Mr. Wayne,” the headmaster began, only to be cut off by Damian.

“Drake-Wayne. It’s polite to use the correct name in conversations,  _ sir, _ ” he said, earning himself a glare.

“Mr. Drake-Wayne, your brother has picked countless fights with faculty members during his time here. He has a history of bad behavior.”

Tim raised his eyebrows in mock interest. “Have these fights been physical, or are they merely arguments that occurred because your staff don’t respect the students?” he asked. “Because I may have attended public school, but I’ve heard stories about Gotham Academy from our oldest brother, Dick, and I’m more inclined to believe your faculty is just incompetent.”

“Excuse me, young man-”

Damian smirked and settled back in his chair as Tim cut off the headmaster. He recognized the way Tim held himself from his days working at Wayne Enterprises, back before he decided to attend college. It was the stance and voice of a CEO, one used to commanding the room.

“Furthermore, I was told that this incident stemmed from a class discussion about racism and ableism. Knowing my brother, I’d wager a guess that the prejudice is aimed towards him, and yet so far you have not brought forth any plans to stop such bigotry and to protect your marginalized students,” Tim said, barely keeping himself from looking too cocky while he watched the headmaster become more flustered.

“No one said anything about racism or ableism, Mr. Drake-Wayne,” the headmaster snapped out.

Tim let out a predatory grin. “Oh? Then, pray tell, why did our father receive a text from Damian prior to this meeting saying he was being sent to your office for standing up for himself? Would you have me believe my brother would  _ lie _ to our dad about something so serious?”

The headmaster stammered but could not get out a response before Damian spoke up.

“A classmate called me retarded while I was trying to inform my teacher of the racism I have faced. My teacher did nothing until I called Madison a bitch, showing me that he cared more about her being insulted than he did about me being called slurs,” Damian said.

Tim stiffened, turning towards Damian. “You didn’t tell me it was that bad.”

Damian shrugged lightly. “Why bother? None of the teachers are going to do anything about it.”

Turning back towards the headmaster, Tim snarled with fury on his face. “Damian will be pulled from Gotham Academy, along with all funding from the Wayne family. We will continue his education at an institution that takes action when students face discrimination, rather than further isolate them.”

“You don’t have the authority for that,” the headmaster protested. “You’re not his father.”

“I’m confident Bruce will agree with me when he learns you and your faculty allowed his  _ autistic son _ to be called a slur for developmental disorders by another student,” Tim snapped, heading to leave the office and gesturing for Damian to follow.


	9. Chapter 9

Damian lay curled up on his bed, the palm of his hands pressed to his eyes. His mind raced but the path was missing, not even in sight. He could hear the hum of his laptop on his desk, Titus licking his own paw, Alfred the cat scratching at something that Damian couldn’t be bothered to see. Ace lay next to him, warm body pressed to Damian’s back.

The noise fell into the background as Damian focused on breathing exercises, trying to slow his racing heart.

A knock on his door startled him out of it. He didn’t answer, unable to get himself to speak. Hopefully whoever it was could take the hint and would leave him be.

“Little D?”

Of course Grayson wouldn’t take the hint. He rarely does. Damian didn’t move, keeping his back to the door, though the animals all paused and looked at the man in the doorway with brief curiosity.

The bed shifted as Dick took a seat on the other side of Ace, the hound huffing and settling down into a nap.

“What happened?” Dick asked.

Damian’s voice was muffled and exhausted as he forced the words out. “Why don’t you just ask Drake? He was there.”

“He was only there for the meeting with the headmaster. What happened before that?”

Damian remained silent for a long while. Finally, he moved his hands and turned slightly towards his eldest brother. “I got called a retard today.”

Dick sucked in a shocked breath. “Holy shit, Dami.”

“It shouldn’t bother me,” Damian said, staring blankly across the room at Titus. “But it does.”

“The diagnosis as a whole is still new,” Dick said, hesitantly. “So the prejudice against it is going to feel new too.”

Damian scowled and rolled so his back was once more facing Dick. “Whatever, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Damian, come on, it’ll help,” Dick tried.

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it. Get out.”

Slowly, Dick got up and headed out of the room, glancing back with concern one last time. “When you’re ready.”


	10. Chapter 10

“My theory is that neurological disorders make you a better hero,” Lonnie said. They were sprawled on Tim’s bed, Tim himself laying on the floor. Junk food surrounded each of them, empty chip bags, candy wrappers, and soda bottles scattered all over the place. The DVD menu hummed in the background, the movie long forgotten.

“Go on,” Tim said, flopping his arms to the side dramatically. “I have a feeling this will validate me.”

“We focus better, because of hyperfixation,” Lonnie said, rolling onto their stomach. “If we fixate on saving people? Perfect for the job description.”

“Oh, good point,” Tim muttered.

The door opened before Lonnie continued.

“What’s happening?” Damian asked. “This is weird, even for you.”

“It’s a sleepover, Baby Bat,” Tim said, gesturing with a flourish from his spot on the floor. “I’m overloaded on sugar and feeling good.”

“We still have snacks, if you’d like to join us. The only rule is no neurotypicals, so you’re allowed in,” Lonnie said as they sat up.

“Lonnie’s telling me their theory that neurological disorders make us better heroes. Or, well, anti-heroes, in their case,” Tim added.

Damian hesitantly settled on the ground next to Tim and grabbed one of the unopened bags of chips. “The fact that we think differently would definitely aid in fighting crime,” he said.

“Exactly!” Lonnie said. “There’s so many things that affect us that help us save people!”


	11. Chapter 11

Damian came home to find Tim in his room, photographs sprawled all over the floor.

“Why are you in my room?” he asked, voice monotone.

“Floor has more space,” Tim said. “Gotta reorganize my photographs. Needed space.”

Damian sighed and stepped forward into the room. Slowly, he settled into a small portion of the room that hadn’t been overtaken by Tim. “Why do you need to reorganize them?”

Tim glanced up. “I used some of them for holiday gifts, but that made me realize I don’t like how it was sorted before.”

Damian looked down at the photographs. He couldn’t find any discernible pattern.

“First, I had them by date, which makes sense,” Tim said. “But then I wanted them sorted by who’s in the photo.”

“What system are you doing now?”

Tim shrugged and waved a hand vaguely over the photos. “I’m grouping them based on how many people are in each photo.”

Damian gave Tim a long, exasperated stare. “What is the point of that?”

“I don’t know! My brain just says I’ve gotta do it this way!” Tim exclaimed.

With a sigh, Damian picked up a stack of photos. “How are you sorting them within each subcategory?” he asked, causing Tim to grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is so short and so late. I'm trying to think up prompts, but motivation is hard.


End file.
